Ron Weasley and the Creature Inheritance
by J-Dove
Summary: Ron was panicked. Harry could be having a creature inheritance any day now, and he had only just realized this fact! And the bad feeling in his gut was growing worse and worse... May become M later. Siren!Ron. Pairings to be decided.
1. Chapter 1: An Awakening

**Author's Notes: Ok. I can do this. I mean, I haven't seen any Ron Creature Inheritance work out there, so I just thought, why not? Might as well write it, right?**

 **This is a yaoi fic, so no matter the pairing suggestions I'm only going to accept boys. It can be anyone, too. Harry, Draco, Blaise... Cedric? I'd prefer the suggestions to be a student, but all suggestions are appreciated regardless. It will be pretty harem like in the beginning, regardless. I mean, this was a bit inspired by "The (Somewhat) Inevitable Harem of One Tsunayoshi Sawada" by FruitPastilles. Great fic, by the way. I recommend it.**

 **Chapter One**

 **Hermione**

It was eleven o'clock at night, the day before the Hogwarts train would arrive to let the students out for the summer holidays. Ron was in the library, head bowed over a thick book, with several more stacked beside him. He had positioned himself in a nondescript corner, away from prying eyes, and Hermione had had to resort to watching him from between the gaps of the bookshelves. She was developing a crick in her neck from the angle, and her feet ached from standing so long, but she stubbornly refused to glance away from her target.

Unaware of her watchful gaze, Ron yawned as he closed his book with a thump, setting it aside to grab a new one from the pile. Hermione felt the pain in her back pulse sharply, and finally moved to stretch as thoughts whirled furiously inside her mind.

 _Just what in Merlin's name was he doing?!_

The only sound was the crinkling of yellowed pages and her slow, steady breathing. It was driving her mad. If she could just get a _glance_ of one of the titles, she could return to bed and rest easy with a mystery solved. But the books remained elusively blank, old leather covers and twine bindings. And it wasn't as if she could just _ask_ him. It had only been a few hours since their fight in the main hall, and she still fumed at the thought of it. Just because she wanted him to act like a responsible human being and actually pick up a textbook once or twice a month! But then he had to be an absolute dunderhead about it, saying that if _she_ poked her nose out of her books 'once or twice a month,' she'd prefer to stay in the _real_ world, too! The nerve!

A cautiously hopeful idea rose inside her mind, and she peered once more between the books to see Ron staring intently into weathered pages. Could he possibly be studying? She hadn't even thought of that before, the idea too incongruous with the Ron she had known for the past three years. But what if he was? What if her lecture had finally gotten through to him!

Unable to bear it any longer, Hermione silently left her post, coming to a stop at Ron's table. Leaning over the surface, Hermione pointed at the open book's pages. "What are you reading?" she interrogated him, firm but quiet. They _were_ in the library after all, and hours past curfew, to boot.

Ron startled at her voice, obviously unaware of her approach. He quickly shut the text before she could decipher the upside-down writing. "Nothing," he said innocently.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Moving before he could react, she snatched a book from the pile next to him and opened it to the first page. " _It was a sweltering midsummer morning when I had awoken to discover my blood boiling in my veins, animalistic instincts polluting my rational thoughts, and I screamed as inside my mind's eye my hands morphed into those of some light-forsaken creature's-_ Ron!" she gasped. "Are you researching creature inheritances? Oh, why didn't you tell me!" Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes, her lightning fast mind connecting the dots as to why Ron would keep his research such a secret.

Ron tugged the book from her grasp with a sharp jerk and placed it in the pile, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Hermione, don't cry! It's not for me. It's for _Harry_." He whispered the name with emphasis, as if trying to impart the gravity of his words. Which was completely silly, in her opinion. If anything, he sounded like a gossiping schoolgirl.

Hermione's tears faded rapidly to make room for reasoning. "Harry?" she questioned dubiously. "But he hasn't shown any signs of having a creature inheritance." Hermione should know. She and Ron had been practically glued to Harry's side for the past several months, what with all the attacks that had been occurring, not to mention the accusations thrown Harry's way, thought it had mostly stopped after the feast and Dumbledore's announcement. Hogwash, all of it.

Harry was much too kind to be the Heir of Slytherin.

"He wouldn't." Ron shook his head, auburn curls bouncing in the candlelight. "Inheritances don't start showing until at least the age of fourteen."

Hermione sucked in a breath of understanding, the pieces falling into place. "Which Harry will be turning this summer." But then she frowned, arguments and logic bounding forth in her mind. "What makes you think he will get one, though? It's vanishingly unlikely for any blood on his father's side to awaken within him, especially considering his mother was Muggleborn."

Ron snorted, raising his eyebrows sarcastically. "Please, this is Harry we're talking about. How likely is it for him to _not_ get one?"

"Just because Harry has had some unfortunate luck the past two years-" she began.

"The spirit of You-Know-Who _living inside our defense teacher's head_. A _one thousand year old basilisk_ , which, by the way, he can talk to, because he's a _Parseltongue_ , a trait he shares with said Dark Lord along with _Slytherin himself_. And finally, the completely coincidental vanquishing of _the Dark Lord,_ when he was only _one year old_." Ron threw his hands up in the air, as if to say 'How's that?'

Despite his heated speech, Hermione still wasn't completely convinced. "None of which is a prerequisite to awakening an Inheritance," she said stubbornly.

"Oh for the love of-" Ron cut himself off. Reaching up to tug one of his ears in a nervous gesture, he began to speak haltingly. "Look," he said quietly. "I get that it's a stretch, Hermione. But what if he does get an Inheritance? What would we do then?" He sighed, hand falling to rest on the table. Worrying his lower lip, her gestured futilely. "I just... I don't know. I got this bad feeling in my gut, and it's not going away." He gestured towards the books helplessly. "What would it hurt to be prepared?"

"Oh, Ron..." she whispered, sympathy and something like pride filling her as she listened to his quietly impassioned words. She picked up a book from the unread pile, and pulled up a chair beside him. "Nothing at all," she said with newfound determination.

Ron cast her a surprised glance at her sudden support, before hurriedly putting on a nonchalant face, as if to forget his earlier sincerity. "Thanks," he said quietly, before grinning. She recognized that grin. It was the wide, daring one he wore when he was about to say something stupid. "Hey, with you being such a bookworm we'll finish this stack in no time!"

"Ron!" she almost shrieked, but quickly slapped a hand onto her mouth as she glanced around at the bookshelves worriedly. She settled for glaring at him, huffing to herself.

He sent a smug, lopsided smile back, and together they began to work.

* * *

 **Ron**

Ron was not having a good summer. That niggling feeling in his gut? Well, it had now transformed into a clenching, painful certainty.

Either that, or he had indigestion.

Ron sat up abruptly, blankets pooling around him before he kicked them off to stand. So distracted was he by the pain that he barely noticed how despite the near total darkness, he navigated his messy room with ease.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he began to strip. He wasn't sure why. All he knew was that he needed to be in water, and _fast._ His stomach roiled in agreement.

He fumbled to turn on the water, coordination leaving him in favor of desperation. What he would have given to have a tub, or better yet, a lake! _Anything_ to submerge himself completely in _sweet, glorious water_.

As soon as water started to spout from the shower head, he climbed in, not bothering to wait for the icy water to heat up. Somehow, he didn't mind the temperature. All he cared about was the drops cascading onto his face with stinging force, running down his back, soaking his skin. They left cool, soothing trails behind, and only then did Ron noticed how hot he was. Did he have a fever?

It didn't matter. All that mattered was the water. It sloshed around his feet and darkened his red hair, but it wasn't enough. He needed _more_.

Opening his mouth, he gulped it down desperately. Water sluiced off his shoulders and his back, unexposed to the stream, began to burn painfully. Inside the shower stall he began to twist and turn, soaking all the skin he could.

In a moment of inspiration, he stepped out of the stall to grab several fluffy towels. Even that brief moment caused him to hiss in pain before he stepped back in, the towels in his arms quickly growing heavy and water logged.

Sitting down on the floor, he began to wrap every exposed inch of him in wet towels. His legs hung out of the open stall, and the bathroom floor was becoming a mess, but he kept on going, feet to legs to waist to shoulders. Then, he leaned his back against cool, wet tile and his closed his eyes.

The soothing _pitter patter_ of water hitting the floor lulled him to a deep, exhausted sleep.

* * *

When Ron woke up, he was afraid. Everything was _wrong._ The light was too bright, the shadows too crisp. And worst of all, he was _too dry._

He dragged his mummified body back into the shower stall and slowly unwrapped it, the still running water once again soaking his skin. The relief was intense, and somehow his thoughts grew clearer under the stream.

Ron closed his eyes, the disturbing sights around him interrupted by the darkness inside his eyelids. He opened them again, however, when his hand brushed against what felt like scales as he unwrapped his lower body.

He stared.

"What. The. Fuck."

Ron would admit he didn't have the best vocabulary, but he felt especially poetic in that moment. After all, those words so perfectly summed up the situation he was in, they could even be considered right up there with great works such as Alan Pole and Shaky Spheres. Or something like that. He had never listened too closely to Hermione's rants, but he was sure she had mentioned them several times.

As his thoughts grew increasingly hysteric, the copper and gold tail waved its fin mockingly, gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the window. He waved back, feeling strangely distant from the situation.

"Hello," he said out loud. "I think I'll call you Shiny."

The fins curled and fluttered, and thick cords of muscle flexed then relaxed.

"Yeah, me too."

Though Ron was unaware of just what he was agreeing to, and had vaguely noted that he was probably in shock or some other fishy variant, he did manage to feel some curiosity over his new limb. Reaching out a hand, he first pressed his knuckles against the metallic scales, which covered his entire lower body and tapered off around his waist. They were not nearly as hard as he expected, and instead bended flexibly before tough muscles stopped further give under his pressure. Moving on, he ran his fingers across the fins at the side of the tail, and saw a matching pale gold fin on his arm, which he just stared at for a moment, startled at seeing the transformation had extended further up his body. Finally, he turned his gaze reluctantly to the fins at the end of Shiny.

Ron was relieved to see that instead of a girly, flowing membrane, the twin fins were aerodynamic, with curved edges that tapered off into two sharp points. Very handsome, if he said so himself.

"You're very pretty and all, Shiny, but I kind of need my legs back. You know, to walk."

Shiny glinted unhelpfully.

"No, seriously. My family will be waking up any minute now to use the bathroom, and we're kind of in the way."

Not to mention what they would find. Him, sitting in the shower stall, unable to leave the water and a copper tail flapping around uselessly. Defenseless. _Vulnerable._

A burst of adrenaline shot through his forced calm, panic swallowing his vision because _no they couldn't see him they couldn't he was in danger danger DANGER!_

He had legs again, Ron realized. He was also completely terrified. With trembling hands he shut off the tap, the magically conjured water that may have saved his life slowing down to a steady trickle of drops.

Stumbling out, he quickly dried himself off with the remaining towels and cast his gaze across the floor, puddles making the surface shine.

 _He couldn't leave any evidence,_ he thought, growing panicked once again.

Throwing on his old pajamas, he peaked his head out of the all before rushing up to his room, carefully avoiding the step that squeaked and _oh Merlin what if they heard him last night they knew they KNEW-_

Ron sucked in a deep breath and held it. He held it as he crept inside his bedroom, he held it as he grabbed his wand off the nightstand and stalked back to the bathroom, and he almost held it as he cast the cleaning spell until he realized that he needed to exhale in order to say the words out loud.

 _Well,_ he thought hazily, _that's new._

Two minutes later, the bathroom was spotless. Another two minutes, and he was buried under his bedsheet with a self-inking quill, a piece of paper, and a dusty textbook he had unearthed from the family collection. It was small, just a rickety old bookshelf set under some flimsy blood wards, but he had searched through it as soon as he had returned from Hogwarts and managed to find this treasure.

 _Sanguis autem Creaturae_ by Mason Quires. Blood of the Creatures.

He flipped to the aquatic section, which he hadn't read yet, and began scanning each page quickly. "Drake, Hippocampus, Nymph, Mer, Serpent," He came to a stop abruptly, staring at a detailed picture of a beautiful blonde women, entirely nude and her shimmering sapphire blue tail wrapped around herself seductively as she rested against the shoreline.

"Siren," he groaned. "Of bloody course."

Ron started reading, the turmoil in his heart calming somewhat now that he finally _had_ something. Ron wasn't a thinker, like Hermione, or a doer, like Harry. He was a planner. Steps, carefully thought out and executed, with precise outlines and predictable outcomes. Flexible in some areas, but generally firm. Confidence that came with knowing exactly what he was going to do, when he was going to do it, and how it was going to happen.

Sure, the creature inheritance had thrown him off a bit, but he was in his element now. He had a _plan._

It went something like this:

Step One: Carry on like normal. No sense spilling everything when he didn't have all the pieces yet.

Ron ignored the voice inside his head screaming of _safety_ and _secret_ and _no one could knowknowknowknow-_

Step Two: Research. A lot.

Ron had already done some of that step, as on the last day of school he had belatedly realized Harry's horrible likelihood of awakening as a Drakon or Elk or some other ridiculously rare and powerful creature, and had immediately ran to the library in a panic. Which. He supposed some of his best friend's luck may have rubbed off on him.

 _Packmate,_ the voice agreed. _Safe._

Ron ignored that too.

Step Three: Get a water source. Both at home and Hogwarts. _Soon._

The book had been very clear that Sirens _needed_ to swim at least once a week. Not just a quick dunk either. No, they needed to stretch their tails lest the muscles atrophy inside human skin, and water apparently had some really important magical properties and blah blah blah. Ron mentally boiled it down to Water=Life. Simple, yet oh so complicated in reality.

Step Four: Get a pack.

Ron frowned, then crossed that out from his sheet of paper.

Step Four: Get allies.

Much better. Or at least, Ron hoped so.

Sirens, the book had said, simultaneously needed and hated social contact. A secretive race, their loyalty and trust was notoriously hard to earn, and you would never know if you had until a Siren was in front of you, their body stabbed clean through from a killing blow meant for you.

Ron thought that was a bit exaggerated, but he supposed he could relate. Even now, just imagining himself telling his family who he _knew_ would never hurt him sent a terrified shiver straight through his bones.

 _Besides,_ the voice whispered, _I can't really know that. It doesn't even have to be on purpose. Just one misplaced word, an unaccounted for action 'meant to help,' and his secret would be out. He would be in DANGER. Everyone would want to SEE him. They can't look don't look don't LOOK-_

What good was sincerity without _trust_?

Ron frowned thoughtfully. He... supposed Harry could be _Pac_ -an ally. Harry could be an ally. He was brave, and reliable, and he knew how to keep a secret. Perfect, really.

 _Alpha?_ The voice questioned.

Ron made a face.

 _Equal,_ he thought, then hesitated. Reluctantly, he added, s _ometimes Alpha._

Ron refused to think about what that might mean. Harry was a natural leader, after all. Sure, they were best mates, but Ron was the one who followed the other's lead most of the time, especially in recent months, now that Harry had gained some confidence. Nothing more to it.

Hermione was the next obvious choice, Ron knew, yet he found himself hesitating. Ron _liked_ Hermione, mostly. Sure, she could be a bit of a know-it-all, and she nagged him to study all the time, but they were _friends_. Couldn't they be pack too?

 _Hermione was smart,_ Ron though. _She'd want to study him. She wouldn't mean bad, but..._

The though of Hermione _looking_ at him evoked a primal, fearful response within him, and he shivered.

 _Not pack_ , Ron thought. _Yet_.

It would be hard to hide it from her at school, especially considering how curious she was, but he'd have to. He could only hope he didn't give anything away.

Chewing the end of his quill thoughtfully, he scribbled down another step.

Step Five: Discover abilities. Practice, preferably while swimming. _**ALoNe.**_

Ron stared, then hurriedly scratched that out. Deciding to pretend that nothing had happened, he wrote down a list below that, including Transformation, Holding Breath, and Siren Song.

The Siren Song. One of the few topic the book was able to speak at length about. Each Song was unique to the Siren. Some had words, some didn't. Some were beautiful, some resembled the horrid screeching of Mermish. All had magical properties.

None of this told him anything about _his_ song, but he figured he'd find that out when he next sang.

Ron frowned. Would he be able to sing Christmas carols with his family? The Hogwarts song? Or would every time he opened his mouth, the inhuman notes of his Song would spill forth, unbidden.

That...

Ron could probably get away with not singing, citing it as childish or something like that, but _still..._

Later, Ron thought. He could think of that later.

Committing the list to memory, he proceeded to rip and tear the paper apart, dumping the resulting pile into his wastebasket.

Leave no evidence.

Then he dressed himself, the tantalizing scent of breakfast tickling his nose and causing his stomach to growl in hunger.

 _Time for Step One_ , he thought.

 _Carry on like normal._

* * *

Ron was _starving._

"Here, Ron, have some more," Molly said distractedly, dumping another serving of bacon onto his plate. "You too, Percy. You're growing boys after all."

"Hey," said one of the twins.

"What about us?" said the other one. Together they batted their eyes pleadingly, somehow managing to look innocently pathetic.

Molly sniffed disapprovingly. "Don't think I don't know about your late night snacking. Really, you shouldn't stay up so late, it's bad for your body," she scolded.

Ron felt his breath seize in his chest and cast the twins a wary glance. Had they noticed anything?

They didn't even glance at him until one of the twins noticed his sudden suspicion and elbowed the other to get their attention. Together they sent him a curious, then mischievous gaze.

Ron looked away first, and resumed stuffing his face full of food, appetite still strong though his blood ran cold in his veins. The only thing worse than a curious Fred and George, was a suspicious Fred and George. Not. Happening.

Instead, Ron took a moment to examine the rest of his family with new eyes. Literally. With his new eyesight, everything looked different. It was surreal, noticing tiny details such as the scar on Fred's right cheek from when a branch had scratched him when he was five. It had since cleared up and disappeared, yet Ron was able to make out a faint line running just under his eye. He could tell the twins apart now, he realized. Huh.

Chewing on a somewhat bland piece of bacon, Ron swallowed and licked his lips, eyeing the pile in the middle of the table. He had already had his third serving, which was where he usually stopped, yet today it seemed that nothing could fill him.

"Already done, Ron?" Molly said, surprised. "One would think you haven't eaten for days, the way you're chowing down. Slow down, and mind your manners."

"Thanks, Mum," Ron said as she tossed some more toast onto his plate, which he slathered in jam. That was another thing. He had always loved sweets, but now he practically _adored_ them. They just sated something inside him, giving him a rush of energy and causing saliva to pool in his mouth eagerly. In comparison meat just seemed... necessary. Something he _had_ to eat, best to be swallowed quickly in order to survive.

That... was fine.

"Quidditch World Cup is two days from now, Mum," Fred said.

"You sure we're all prepared?" George asked, before sending Ron a meaningful glance. Ron stared back, confused, before slapping his forehead in realization.

"I forgot to owl Harry!" Ron said, dismayed. Shoving one last piece of toast in his mouth, he bounded up the stairs frantically, abandoning his empty plate.

"Don't forget to give Pig his treats," George called out lazily.

"He's a very busy owl," Fred agreed.

Now in his room, Ron quickly scribbled out the letter.

 _Harry - DAD GOT THE TICKETS - Ireland versus Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum's writing to the Muggles to ask you to stay. They might already have the letter, I don't know how fast Muggle post is. Thought I'd send this with Pig anyway._

 _We're coming for you whether the Muggles, like it or not, you can't miss the World Cup, only Mum and Dad reckon it's better if we pretend to ask their permission first. If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer pronto, and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday anyway._

 _Hermione's arriving this afternoon. Percy's started work - the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Don't mention anything about Abroad while you're here unless you want the pants bored off you._

 _See you soon –_

 _Ron_

At the end, Ron hesitated. He knew he should probably tell Harry about his Inheritance, at least let on that _something_ happened, yet...

He'd tell him when they were alone, in a more secure place than a letter.

"C'mere, Pig," Ron whispered to the owl, opening the cage the hyper bird resided in. The owl refused to cooperate, backing away until it was pressed against the wire mesh furthest away from Ron, chest rising and falling with rapid breathing.

Ron hesitated, then stepped away from the cage. Slowly, the owl crept closer, eyeing Ron suspiciously. He reached out a hand slowly, a sinking feeling in his chest, but was wholly surprised when Pig opened it's sharp beak wide and bit him. Hard.

"Bloody _shi-_ " he cut himself off, yanking his hand back to nurse it against his chest. It hurt, but Ron would like to think not as nearly as much as Pig's rejection.

"Guess you don't like me now, huh," Ron whispered. Examining his hand, he was relieved to see the bite had not drawn blood, thought the skin around his forefinger looked decidedly red and angry.

Reluctantly, Ron enlisted Percy's help in tying the letter to Pig's leg. He was understandably suspicious, but Ron managed to bluff through it by saying Pig was mad at him for forgetting to clean his cage yesterday. Which was technically true, but not the real reason.

Maybe hiding his Inheritance would be harder than he thought.

* * *

"Alright," Ron said out loud, now safely ensconced in the bathroom. "Time for some revisions."

Step One was working out for the most part, but it was clear it would need some more details.

For one, animals. Or really, any being with more sensory abilities than the average witch or wizard, which was everything. Somehow, someway, Pig was able to see something was different with him. Now he needed to find out what it was, and how to hide it.

 _Six senses,_ Ron thought lazily. _Taste, Smell, Sight, Touch, Hearing, and Intuition._

Hearing was out unless he sang, and taste probably wouldn't be a problem unless someone tried to eat him. In fact, Vampires were the only beings he could think of off the top of his head that would blow his cover that way, and even then it was more likely they would smell him first.

Smell... A lot of creatures and animals have a heightened sense of smell. Vampire, Werewolf, Elk, Veela, Dracon, Fae, Incubas, Nereid, pretty much all creatures use smell to identify each other. The problem was how to hide it.

Ron spun his wand in his hand, mind racing. Scent blockers? Scent nullifiers? Scent masks? He couldn't just _not_ have a scent. In fact, why was he bothering to hide it in the first place?

 _Danger,_ the voice said, and Ron snorted, forcing the sudden jolt of fear away. Despite his annoyance at his own newfound instincts, he couldn't help but agree with it in this case. Most creatures didn't exactly get along with each other without extenuating circumstances, especially when they lived in similar domains, like most humanoid beings.

He could... Take one of his brother's scents, he supposed. Bill would probably be the safest bet, as he worked in Egypt, and wouldn't be covered in another's creature's scent, like Charlie and his dragons. The twins would be most similar to him on account of age and other factors, but it would be pretty suspicious to have all three of them smelling exactly the same to any other creatures in Hogwarts.

And there _would_ be others. Not even including Harry and his damnable luck, which Ron really needed to check up on, but he was sure at least a few of the upper years had at least awakened _something._

He wondered if he would sense them, too.

Maybe he could synthesize a scent, mixing the twins' and Bill's together? Any of those options would be hard to maintain, though. He supposed masking it with some other strong scent, like peppermint or lemon, would have to do.

Then there was sight. He didn't think anyone could tell his creature inheritance just by looking at him, but then again, there were at least a few physical factors that must have changed after the awakening. Studying himself in the mirror, Ron went over a mental checklist of common creature traits.

Fangs? No, thank goodness. It wasn't likely anyway, considering Sirens seemed to be at least somewhat herbivorously inclined. The ears as well seemed to be the same, and when he checked his skin it wasn't somehow miraculously clear of the smattering of his freckles. But then again, he didn't seem to have any pimples either...

He didn't have claws, and when he somewhat embarrassedly decided to strip, there didn't seem to be any major changes to his body either. The skin on his legs were somewhat smoother. A bit synthetic, he thought, but not noticeable unless you were looking for it. Again, the same lack of blemishes, though he had kept his little nicks and scars for the most part. He had lost the ones on his legs, with the most noticeable being the scar on his ankle.

His hair was still ginger, his eyes were still blue. Really, nothing seemed to have changed at all. That is, until he tilted his head.

There, on his neck, were faint, almost invisible lines. Three rows on each side, a mocking imitation of gills on human flesh.

He could hide them. Cast some charms, wear scarves when possible. They were nothing, really.

Running his fingers over them and feeling the raised ridges on his skin, he couldn't help but think, with a hint of irony, that they looked a lot like scars. Like his skin had split open and healed not quite right.

Finally, there was his magic. It didn't feel too different, a warm fire burning in the center of his chest, comforting and growing more powerful by the day. Yet, just underneath that there was an undercurrent of something else, something that reminded him of swift undertows and soothing waves.

That wouldn't be so easy to hide. On the flip side, practically no one would be looking at it either. He could ignore it. Maybe powerful wizards like Dumbledore could sense it, or the weird races such as Dementors and Centaurs could feel it, but that was all. He could avoid them.

He could do this.

 **Alright, that's all for today. The next chapters probably won't be this long. I'm really liking this story, and I have a bunch of ideas for it, though I am a bit in the grey area with the last two books. I'm planning to have a bunch of the main cast get a creature inheritance, or just be generally badass. I'm also really excited about how I'm planning to write Harry, though he may or may not be the final ship depending on you guys. See you soon!**


	2. Chapter 2: A Realization

**Author's Notes: Hello! Enjoy the chapter! Suggestions are appreciated~**

 **Ron**

Ron liked to think of himself as a simple person. He ate, he slept, he went to school. He hated studying, but he liked to play chess. He collected Chocolate Frog Cards, and his best friend was the Boy-Who-lived.

All of these things were normal. Well, perhaps not the Boy-Who-Lived part, but the point was that Ron was a simple person. A _normal_ person. Certainly not the kind of person who would get a Creature Inheritance.

All of that was moot, of course, because the fact was Ron did have a Creature Inheritance. Said Inheritance was now biting him in the arse, as his throbbing headache could testify.

There was no other way to it. Ron needed to swim. Luckily, this lined up perfectly with Step Three of his plan.

 _Get a water source._

If he remembered correctly, there should be a large pond in the woods nearby. He could sneak out at night with his broom, although he'd have to scout it before Hermione arrived for the World Quidditch Cup. Knowing her, he couldn't afford to spend too long searching for it and raise suspicion. If he left now, he should be able to find it before she arrived in a few hours.

That was only if he left right then, though. And while Ron was usually all for getting straight to the main task, considering the situation, it wouldn't hurt to be prepared.

An idea came to his mind, and Ron navigated his messy room, cursing as he stubbed his toe on a hidden obstacle. He should probably clean up a bit, before Harry arrived and stabbed himself with a coat hanger.

Eyeing his bedroom floor, covered with dirty laundry, knick-knacks, and mysterious stains, Ron decided it could wait until later. After all, the mess was useful in it own way. No Death Eaters-or mischievous twins, for that matter-would be able to sneak up to his bed in the dead of night. His bed was more comfortable to snuggle into when the blankets were mussed the way he liked it, and it wasn't as if he would run out of clean sweaters anytime soon. Besides, that donut didn't look _too_ lethal...

Withdrawing from his thoughts, Ron rolled up his sleeves in resignation and dove into the clutter. It would be convenient if he could to swim in it as well, but apparently stale butterbeer didn't meet Siren standards.

After a few backbreaking minutes, he emerged with a bag of muggle Peppermints, and an even bigger mess. Partial transfiguration was simple to perform, and soon enough Ron had a cup full of clear liquid that, when he sniffed it, caused his nose to tingle from the sharp smell of mint.

It was perfect.

After dabbing some onto his skin to mask his scent, Ron at last started towards the broom shed, where his old Sweeping Star was waiting for him. He was halfway through the door before he remembered that he wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. He actually had to tell someone where he was going.

"Mum! I'll be out flying for a bit!" he called out, propping the door open impatiently.

"Be back before Hermione gets here, and take a jacket! It's chilly!" Molly's voice echoed from the stairwell.

Ron rolled his eyes. It was the middle of summer, and he didn't feel cold at all, standing in the open doorway. In fact, he felt perfectly comfortable, a soothing coolness ruffling his hair.

His hands tightened on the doorknob fractionally. He was a Siren now. Would his senses match up to a normal witch or wizard's? He hadn't felt cold in the shower either...

Ron shivered, the temperature still that same, comfortable coolness, and made sure to grab his jacket and scarf before he left.

* * *

It took him a while to find the pond, flying as high as he could above the treetops. Resisting the temptation to dive in and never leave was even more difficult, but he managed.

 _Shift,_ the voice whispered. _Swim. Water against scales, songs and waves and yummy fish._

"Fish _is_ yummy," Ron allowed, broom propped against a nearby tree and waves lapping at his bare feet. As always, he ignored most of what the voice had said.

Instead, Ron surveyed the pond and grimaced. It was... smaller than he remembered, though he had been only seven the last time he visited. The water was at least somewhat clear, and he could already spot several small grey fish streaking through it. Still, he would have preferred it to be larger, if this was what he was going to be swimming in for the rest of summer.

His instincts agreed, and he found himself longing for Hogwarts and the Black Lake that spanned her South side. He imagined it would be a dream to swim in, moonlight filtering through the water and magical creatures populating its mysterious depths.

Exhaling reluctantly, more huff than sigh, he turned his back to the water and grabbed his broom. He hesitated, his headache reprimanding him sharply.

 _Water. Shift. Swim. Sing._

"Oh, fuck off," Ron groaned, and began to strip.

* * *

Changing into his Siren form was easy. Disturbingly so. All Ron had to do was think about it, and in the next moment he had a tail and fins. No warning tingle, no surge of power.

It was as if he was always a Siren, and his human form was a bubble, surrounding him. One touch, and...

 _Pop.  
_

As soon as the water met his scales, Ron felt an indescribable relief. The cool liquid was soothing in nature, even as a rush of energy incited him to kick and launch himself through the water, quick as lightening.

Ron did just that. Behind him, his copper and gold tail undulated, elegant and powerful. The world was a blue green all around him, the sky a distorted ripple above him. He could see fish ranging from his pinky's length to the size of his head darting away from his approach, and playfully set chase. It was exhilarating, comforting, and the slightest bit terrifying.

Whether the terror came from the newness of it, or the chance of being seen, all fins and scales and inhuman tail, Ron couldn't say.

Ron opened his mouth, his gills working to draw in breath as the slightly sweet taste of freshwater met his tongue. He could feel something within his chest rising, struggling to be set free.

Ron let it, a reckless abandonment overtaking him, and _Sang_.

At first, Ron wasn't sure what, exactly, he was singing. It wasn't in any language he had heard of, and yet the sound had _meaning_ to it. The first, smooth note was alone as it echoed through the water, and yet a trillion melodies echoed back to him, as if everything around him had taken the opportunity to join him in his song. It was ancient oceans and trickling streams and the steady thrum of an uncountable number of heartbeats. It was _belonging_.

 ** _"Home."_**

* * *

"What's wrong?" Hermione demanded.

It had only been ten minutes since she had stepped through the floo, and already she was suspecting something. It hadn't helped that Ron's hair had still been wet from his swim when he arrived, a minute after her. It also didn't help that Ron was a horrible liar.

"What makes you think something is wrong?" Ron asked evasively. The carpet was unusually clean, he noticed. A fetching shade of brown, with russet hues. It was a nice carpet.

Hermione frowned, eyes narrowed as she studied him carefully. "You haven't said anything stupid yet. You _always_ say something stupid."

Truth be told, Ron hadn't said much at all after her arrival. His mum had insisted on a big welcome tour, and each of his siblings had inevitably wandered by to say hello, leaving little time for him to speak.

Still, it was just like Hermione to deduce something from that. Sometimes she was so persistently curious, it was aggravating. Especially when he wanted nothing more than to change the topic.

Kind of like now, actually.

"Thanks," Ron deadpanned, ignoring the twins' snickering in the background. "But seriously, nothing's wrong. I'm just bored waiting for Harry to arrive."

Luckily, Hermione took the bait he hadn't realized he'd dangled, biting her lip with a worried look. "Do you think he's alright? I hope his relatives haven't been completely awful."

Ron's gut tightened at the thought of Harry's relatives. He didn't think he'd ever forget the feeling, of picking and choosing what food to owl Harry. Waiting for the scrawled note assuring his safety to come back, clutched in Pig's claws. Wondering if it wouldn't come at all.

 _Danger,_ the voice hissed. _Danger to pack._

That was enough to draw him out of his thoughts, and Ron shrugged. "I'm sure Harry's fine. He's pretty tough, you know."

"Right," Hermione said, somewhat appeased. "Well, I suppose I better start unpacking. I should thank Ginny again. I know _I'd_ hate having to let someone stay in my room."

"We live in a dormitory."

"Irrelevant," she dismissed. "I'll see you at dinner," and here she paused to give him a reassuring look. "Don't worry about Harry. If anyone could handle a Creature Inheritance, it would be him." She rolled her eyes. "I still think it's unlikely, though."

Ron was no longer paying attention then, because despite everything, he found himself agreeing. Harry _would_ be able to handle it. Harry was brave, and powerful, and took down everything life threw at him. Harry could handle anything.

 _So why did this happen to me?_

* * *

Picking up Harry could have gone better, Ron supposed.

It wasn't as if it was _his_ fault the Dursleys had gotten so angry. It wasn't his fault either when the fireplace exploded. Or when Dudley ate the twins' Ton-Tongue Toffee.

The main point being it wasn't Ron's fault. Therefore, Ron had no problem with laughing uproariously as soon as they arrived back at the Burrow.

"Did you see the look on their faces?" Harry gasped inbetween laughs, doubled over.

"They looked like they were torn between passing out and exploding!" Ron guffawed, eyes tearing up with the force of his humor.

Ron regained equilibrium quickly though, because Harry never stayed mirthful for long. Sure, he smiled, but he wasn't the type to laugh easily. And when Harry stopped laughing, Ron stopped laughing, because part of the fun of laughing was in making Harry laugh, and when Harry stopped laughing it wasn't fun anymore.

Now calmer after releasing his pent up snickers, Ron took the opportunity to study Harry. As he greeted Ron's brothers in the kitchen, Ron followed him silently. He didn't _look_ like he had a Creature Inheritance. He had no claws, no fangs. His eyes were the same emerald green, and his hair still curled and spiked wildly around his head.

 _Pack Pack Pack,_ the voice practically chirped, and Ron felt a faint stirring of _something_ , before he shoved it down forcefully.

His supposed Creature senses weren't telling him anything, either. Doubtful, Ron sniffed the air surreptitiously, feeling quite silly as he did so. All that came to him was the same, familiar scent of fresh grass and electricity. Nothing new there.

The peppermint must be messing with his senses, Ron decided. Harry _couldn't_ be human. If Harry was human, and Ron was a Siren, then that would make _Ron_ the outlier, which...

Ron couldn't take that, on top of everything else. He didn't want to be alone in this, even if it meant wishing Harry's humanity away from him.

He supposed that made him less than perfect, but Ron was okay with that.

Ron never claimed to be perfect, anyways.

* * *

"Woah," Harry said, eyeing Ron's room in a mixture of awe and disgust.

Hermione sniffed, then wrinkled her nose, looking as if she sorely regretted it.

Ginny just sighed.

"Don't say it," Ron groaned. "I didn't have time to clean it yesterday. Hermione arrived earlier than I thought she would." Which was true, but not the whole reason. It wasn't like he could tell Harry he had spent the entire morning as a Siren, right?

 _Pack,_ the voice reminded him, and Ron remembered that yes, he could tell Harry.

He had to.

"I wasn't going to," Harry defended himself, lips twitching. "Just..." He trailed off, gazing around in fascination. He didn't show any sign of continuing, so Hermione picked up the slack with a shake of her head.

"Didn't Molly see this when the second bed was put in?" Hermione frowned. "When was that?"

Ron made a quick calculation. "A week ago?"

Ginny sighed again.

Hermione raised an eyebrow dubiously. Harry did the same as he hummed, lips twitching harder to hold down a grin. "You did _this_ in a week?" he said, gesturing at... well, everything.

"What can I say," Ron shrugged. "I'm talented."

Harry did grin that time, impish and carefree and completely relaxed, and slowly made his way to his assigned bed. It was obvious which one it was, as its neatly made sheets were in stark contrast to the chaos that encompassed the rest of the room.

The girls followed him, and Ron gave a mental shrug as he flopped onto his messy sheets. More room for him.

"Percy's enjoying Ministry work, then?" Harry asked, referring to their earlier encounter with Percy and his subsequent bragging.

"Enjoying it?" Ron snorted. "I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him."

Ron wasn't sure why, exactly, it annoyed him so much. Perhaps it was Percy's attitude, as if being in the Ministry somehow made him _better_ than Ron. (It did.) Perhaps it was his absolute certainty that Ron would never be able to do the same, because he wasn't as talented, didn't study as hard. (It's true.)

Perhaps it was the way Percy looked at everything, now. Arrogant. Calculating. _Ambitious_.

If there was a person in his family that Ron trusted the least, it wouldn't be the twins, or his distant, elder brothers. It would be Percy.

The conversation turned towards the twins and their plans for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and Ron relaxed slightly. Everything about this, the talking, the laughing, the arguing... It was normal. Almost like his disastrous Awakening had never happened. Almost as if the entire thing had just been a long, bad dream, and Ron had woken up, simple and normal and human.

 _Almost._

Ron reached up to tug at the neck of his sweater, dutifully hiding his gill marks from view. He felt hot, suddenly, a tight feeling in his throat that wouldn't go away.

"Ron?" Ginny's said suddenly, and Ron went stiff, startled.

"Yeah?" he said, voice a tad too high. He cleared his throat.

"We're going downstairs to check on dinner. Are you coming?"

"Yeah... Sure. Just give me a minute."

Hermione gave him a searching look. Harry did the same, except his was more penetrating suspicion, softened somewhat by concern. Ginny had already left.

Once Ron was alone, he massaged his head with his hands and let out a tense sigh. At this rate, his secret would be out by next week. Hermione already thought something was up, and Harry was close behind, but definitely gaining ground. He had managed to fool his family for the most part, but Ginny and the twins had a way of finding out all of your secrets and filing them away for blackmail privileges.

And it was only Day Three.

Ron needed to snap out of his funk. No, he wasn't human anymore. Yes, his life would probably never be the same. But he had his friends, he had his family. He had school and magic and his entire Siren future ahead of him. He just needed to remember that.

 _Secret, don't look, danger,_ the voice murmured, a constant litany in the background of his thoughts.

Ron called up memories of his Song, of peace and acceptance and clear focus. He placed the same simple smile on his lips, stood up with his normal gait, and pretended to be human.

 **Here you go! Was it too jumpy? I promise it will slow down when they get to Hogwarts.**

 **...Probably.**

 **Also, don't hate me, but yes! Harry is human! Don't worry though, he is still totally badass. If you couldn't tell, I'm going to make him more... Slytheriny? I just like the gap moe. Honestly, when compared to other creature characters in the fic, Harry will probably be among the scariest. Human for the win!**

 **Suggestions are appreciated~**


	3. Chapter 3: A Secret

**Author's Note: Heeeeeeello! How ya doin'? Being Awesome? So am I!**

 **Anyways... Enjoy the chapter!**

 **Ron**

Dinner was a boisterous affair, the chatter and shenanigans of Ron's siblings creating a rambunctious atmosphere. Throughout it all, Ron picked at his meat reluctantly. He had downed his glass of orange juice early into the meal, and the vegetables had been scraped clean off his plate, leaving his sole piece of ham sticking out like a malignant mountain.

Out of all of his changes, this one depressed Ron the most. He used to _love_ meat. Juicy, chewy, savory, he could list all the reasons meat was his second favorite food group-the first being dessert. But now, as soon as his lips closed around his forkful of ham, he was met with blandness. Stubbornly, he persisted in chewing, but he wasn't nearly as hungry as he was that morning. His throat convulsed several times with the effort of swallowing, and in the end he was forced to subtly spit it out in a napkin.

Disgusted, Ron glared down at the remains of his meal. Still a bit peckish, he relinquished his tight grip on his fork, letting his hands fall to his sides as he leaned back, sighing.

Beside him, Harry was having the opposite problem. He was wolfing down his food as fast as it could meet his plate. As Ron watched, Harry abruptly paused in his gorging, looking a bit queasy. More than half of his plate remained, but he pushed it away in favor of nursing his glass of water.

He was thinner, Ron noticed. It was an easy thing to miss, when one wasn't looking for it. Harry had always been more on the lanky side. But now, Ron couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Harry's thin wrist, the bone jutting out from suntanned skin that, on closer inspection, revealed several small scars. Some even looked new.

Ron gritted his teeth with the effort of forcing down his instinctual snarl. If Ron were to see the Dursleys at that exact moment, he wouldn't even hex them, he was so furious. No, he'd punch them straight in the face. Twice. Then he'd _Stupify_ them into unconsciousness, drag them to a lake and drown them. He'd do it one at a time, too, _Enervating_ them before hand and holding them down until their bodies lost buoyancy and sunk to the bottom for the fish to feed on.

Ron paused, a tone of discordance striking through his anger. That was _not_ a Ron thought. Ron thoughts were petty and semi-violent, typically involving daydreams of fisticuffs and short, smoking anger. They were not cold and murderous, like that had just been. In fact, Ron was reasonably sure that was a _Siren_ thought.

Huh _._ His Siren instincts were getting more subtle. It hadn't even felt like another's voice, that time. Just... Ron.

"Ron, are you not feeling well?" Molly leaned forward in her seat across from him, frowning. "You've barely touched your ham."

Ron's tensed. "I've, uh... been thinking of... becoming vegetarian?"

Not his best fib, he had to admit, but it would do. It was even true, if one squinted a bit. Just less thinking of, and more... _needing_ to.

Molly blinked, surprised, before doubt kicked in. "Is that so..."

"Yeah," Ron said, nodding quickly. He scrambled to think of something believable that could justify the uncharacteristic decision. Funnily enough, he didn't think confessing to a surprise Creature Inheritance would cut it. "It's, er, pretty cool. A lot of Hufflepuffs are doing it too, so, I just thought, why not? Get some practice in before school starts, and all that."

Ron was jittery with nerves, wondering if out of all things, _this_ was how his secret would come out. Not because he was caught swimming, or had used some awesome Creature power to save the world. No, it would be because he'd decided to eat Hufflepuff food.

A moment passed, and Molly nodded to herself, seeming to come to a conclusion. What it was, Ron couldn't be sure, but he hoped it was along the lines of _'Ron's probably fine,'_ or ' _Ron's looking particularly human today.'_

"Here, have some salad, Dear." Molly dumped a spoonful of salad onto his plate, and Ron sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Mum."

The loud scraping noise of cutlery clued Ron into the fact that conversation around him had ebbed slightly. He could practically feel the burn of Hermione's gaze from where she sat, on Harry's other side. Almost unconsciously, Ron subtly positioned Harry between them, blocking her view.

 _At least I haven't been found out yet,_ Ron thought optimistically.

* * *

 **Harry**

Harry studied Ron carefully from under his eyelashes, disguising the action as a sip of water. He had been acting strangely ever since Harry arrived at the Burrow. Speaking little, drifting off in thought, avoiding eye contact, and, apparently, becoming vegetarian, just to name a few things.

Harry was understandably concerned. Very concerned. Which was why later that night, instead of heading straight to his bed, he went ahead and plopped himself on the other's messy sheets.

Ron's brows crinkled in confusion, hair still wet from his shower and sleepy eyes blinking at him wearily. "Mate, your bed's over there."

"I know." Harry drew his legs up and burrowed his toes under the warm blankets, settling into a more comfortable position.

"Then why aren't you on it?" Ron questioned, but all to willingly sat down beside Harry. Their shoulders bumped briefly before Ron drew back sharply as if burned.

"That," Harry said, hand lashing out to clamp tight around Ron's bicep. "That thing you just did. Pulling away. That's why I'm here."

Ron tensed under Harry's hand, even as his brows furrowed in what seemed to be genuine confusion. "Wha..." he swallowed, "What do you mean?"

Harry chose his next words carefully, letting go but not drawing away. "You've been different. More withdrawn, skittish. You don't initiate conversation, and you flinch away from physical contact. I don't even know where the vegetarian thing came from." He stared hard into dark, ocean blue eyes, tracking their progress as they drifted everywhere but to Harry.

"I hadn't realized," Ron said softly. "The flinching, I mean. I... I feel fine."

 _Ah,_ Harry thought, _and there's the lie._

"Something happened," he said, and softened his tone. "Tell me."

Harry watched as Ron's mouth opened and closed, its owner struggling to find words. His eyes drifted across Ron's profile, before wandering to the bob of his throat as he swallowed. From this angle, he could almost peek into the turtleneck to see the delicate skin beneath. A hint of silver caught his eye, before he lost track of it.

Harry frowned. He could have sworn...

"I..." Ron started. "That is..." He took a deep breath. "Can you keep a secret?"

* * *

 **Ron**

Ron didn't know what to do. He had assumed he would be the one to broach the topic, to sneak away and deliver his secret upon Harry's waiting ears. Instead, Harry had cornered him in his own room, practically demanding answers. Answers which, now that the time had come, Ron wasn't sure if he could give.

Ron gritted his teeth. He _knew_ he was going to tell Harry. He had planned to, even. So why was he so afraid?

"You know I can," Harry said, answering Ron's earlier question. "Why? What happened?"

Ron waffled for another moment, before throwing caution to the wind. "I'm a Siren," he blurted out abruptly, feeling his cheeks flush.

Harry blinked, and drew back slightly. "What?"

"A Siren," Ron repeated. "I had a Creature Inheritance. Grew a tail. Got some new powers. You know," he shifted anxiously. "Stuff."

Harry stared, seeming to mull over what Ron had said. Just as Ron thought he would burst from the tension, he broke the silence that had fallen over them. "I see."

Ron blinked. "You see," he repeated.

"Uh huh."

"That's it?" Ron questioned.

"Is there more?" Harry returned.

Ron stayed silent, still shocked at the other's easy acceptance. He couldn't believe it was so easy _,_ though he should have expected it. Harry was _Pack_.

Ron bit his lip at the thought. He supposed this counted as 'more.'

"I'm not... human," he started. "I have... these instincts. They're hard to control, and, well, one of them makes me cautious towards people who aren't a member of my Pack. I just thought you should know, since you count as Pack. My only Pack member, really." Ron looked away, flushing darker. "I'm pretty sure you're my Alpha."

"Oh." Harry frowned thoughtfully. "Have you told anyone else yet?" he said, changing the subject. His knee brushed Ron's reassuringly, and Ron relaxed. Harry was weird about touching. At times he would be the most cuddly, touchy-feely person in the world, while at other times he would shy away from contact. Ron liked it better when Harry touched him.

"No. Just you. I'd like to keep it that way."

Harry nodded, and reached out a hand to brush gently against the other's wrist. "Thank you for telling me. For now, though, we should go to sleep. We'll talk some more later." He grinned, and scooted off the bed, leaving Ron to rest.

"Wait," Ron called out, and Harry paused. "You too. Thanks. And, I mean, you can always tell me whatever. If you want. Just... putting that out there, now that..." He gestured helplessly.

Something unreadable seemed to swim across Harry's expression, before he smiled once more. "Will do. Goodnight, Ron."

"Night, Harry."

Ron breathed in deeply once Harry was safely ensconced under his own covers, adrenaline still rushing through his veins. He couldn't think beyond the fact that Harry _knew_ , and he didn't care. For a moment, he wondered if he was overreacting about his Creature Inheritance, if he should just tell everyone. If maybe, they'd be fine with it.

 _DANGER. SECRET. DON'T TELL._

Ron breathed out, and closed his eyes.

* * *

The morning of the Quidditch World Cup dawned appallingly early. The sun hadn't even touched the horizon when there was a loud knocking sound on Ron's door.

Ron groaned as he cracked his eyes open, and from the other side of the room Harry jolted upright, eyes still closed and half asleep.

Note to self, Ron thought groggily. Sirens are definitely nocturnal.

"Wake up, boys," Arthur called. "You have ten minutes to get ready, then its breakfast and we're heading out."

Eleven minutes later, Ron was still grumpy and tired, but fully dressed. It was a state not unlike the other occupants of the kitchen.

"Mum," Fred groaned around a mouthful of eggs. "How do you do this every day?"

"Tell us your secret," George begged.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Habit, tea, and willpower. And don't talk with your mouth full."

Harry smiled hesitantly, peering up at Molly with his signature puppydog eyes. Ron knew he was doing it on purpose. He always pulled them out when he was about to lose to Ron in chess, and Ron could never remain entirely unaffected.

He still lost, of course, but dammit if Ron didn't feel guilty afterwards.

"Thank you for breakfast, Ma'am," Harry said politely. "It was delicious."

"Oh, it's nothing, Dear," Molly giggled, flapping her hand as if to ward off his thanks. "Eat as much as you like."

Ron had to shove some toast into his mouth to keep from laughing.

Harry glanced at him, completely innocent.

Ron snorted, and Harry's eyes crinkled in amusement.

"For goodness sake, what are you two laughing about?" Hermione said, exasperated with their silent antics. They weren't usually this silly, Ron knew. But after their talk, Ron just couldn't _not_ be deliriously happy. He felt more peaceful than he had been in _days_.

"Nothing," Harry laughed. "We're just excited for our first World Cup. I know I can't wait to see what techniques the Seekers pull out."

"Speak for yourself." Ron started to peel a tangerine. "I've already been once."

"That's right, it's every four years, isn't it?" Hermione brightened. "You must have been only ten at the time. What was it like?"

"Great," Ron deadpanned. "Shame you'll never see it. I suppose I'll have to tell you all about it, to make up for the experience."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Haha. Very funny, Ron."

"I thought so too." Ron grinned, pleased with his quip.

"Alright, best finish quickly, now," Arthur said, consulting his muggle watch. Ridiculously large, with green and orange polka dots, it matched the rest of his muggle clothing. Color wise, that is. "We have to leave in a few minutes."

Ron shoved the rest of his tangerine in his mouth, before darting upstairs to apply his peppermint scent mask, which he had forgotten in the rush. By the time he came back down, everyone had assembled by the door.

"Let's see," Arthur muttered to himself. "Water, binoculars, tickets..." He paused. "Where is Percy?"

"He Apparated, dear, with Charlie and Bill," Molly said.

"Right, right. Forgot he could do that now," Arthur said sheepishly.

Fred snorted, and leaned closer to Harry and, by proxy, Ron. "He's been Apparating downstairs every meal for two weeks, just to prove he can. A bit hard to forget, 'innit?" he stage whispered.

Soon everyone was piling out the door, with Molly handing out farewell hugs and kisses, and scolding the twins to behave, which they ignored pointedly. Ron wondered what he had missed.

They began to walk.

Harry blew out a frosty breath, before pulling his scarf up and over his nose. Hermione tightened her coat, shivering.

Ron, on the other hand, was completely fine. He supposed this was final proof of what he had suspected, that as a Siren, the cold did not affect him like it did his friends.

"Achoo!" Hermione sneezed.

Ron found this did not bother him as much as he thought it would.

"Sir?" Harry said. "How _are_ we getting to the World Cup? And why are we walking?"

"Good question, Harry," Arthur said, rubbing his mittened hands together. "You see, it practically impossible, a logistical nightmare, really, to fit thousands of wizards at once onto the Hogwarts Express, or in Diagon Alley. That's why we're using a Portkey. The whole Ministry's been working on this for months, clearing the areas, setting up anti-ward charms, scheduling arrivers and pricing tickets accordingly. Some Apparate, of course, but not everyone can. This is just an alternative. Right now we're heading towards Stoatshead Hill, our Portkey station."

Harry nodded along slowly, tilting his head thoughtfully. "What _is_ a Portkey, Sir?" Harry asked.

While they talked, Ron squinted at the distance, and could just barely make out the shape of a hill. Pretty soon, they had reached it, and Ron raised his eyebrows. Stoatshead Hill was, for lack of a better word, stunted _._ It had short, tough grass carpeting it in random tufts, and where there was no grass, frozen mud covered its surface. It was this mixture of grass and mud that the Weasleys searched urgently, spreading out to cover more ground.

"Come on now, best hurry. We've got ten minutes. The Portkey shouldn't be too big, about hand size, so keep looking," Arthur called out, holding his glasses as he inspected a patch of grass at his feet.

"Over here, Arthur!" a voice shouted, and Ron whipped around lightning fast, startled.

"Amos!" Arthur smiled and quickly made his over to the two figures at the bottom of the hill.

Ron followed, slower than the others. There was something about them that put him on edge, though he couldn't name it for the life of him. As they got closer, he was able to recognize one of them. Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff team Captain. A Seeker.

As far as he could tell, there was nothing that should have made Ron so wary of him. And it _was_ him, he knew. The man who Ron realized was his father felt completely normal to his senses. Cedric felt like... a fresh breeze, denoting a fierce storm on the horizon. Airy and gentle, but only on the surface.

He felt _scary._ Ron was scared of him. And worst of all, he didn't know _why._

Ron ignored the friendly greetings around him, in favor of staring intensely. If he could just _see..._

Cedric glanced at him curiously, and appeared to sniff the air, before he winced slightly. Ron wondered if he could smell the sharp scent of Peppermint that he wore, and the pieces clicked into place.

Huh. Ron didn't think he'd meet another Creature until at _least_ Hogwarts.

Subtly panicking, Ron stepped closer to Harry instinctively. It was silly, and completely useless, but Harry angled his body as if to shield him and Ron felt comforted despite himself. Harry didn't seem to have noticed his movement, focused on the conversation around them.

Cedric narrowed his eyes slightly, and Ron flinched. With soft brown hair and storm grey eyes, Cedric looked completely human. Ron stared as for a timeless moment steel grey feathers sprouted from Cedric's hair, eyes glowing silver and nails tipped with talons curling threateningly. Ron blinked, and the vision was gone, leaving human Cedric in its place.

 _What in Merlin's starry arse was_ _that?!_

Harry moved, and Ron's eyes snapped away to see that everyone else was crowding around an old, brown boot. The Portkey, he realized.

Joining them, Ron stretched out a hand to touch it's heel. Another hand came into view, tanned fingers brushing his and it was with a start that Ron realized it was Cedric's.

Cedric, who was a Creature, and seemed to suspect Ron of being one too. Cedric, who was staring at him the way a wolf may stare down its prey. Cedric, who was sniffing him subtly as a grin slowly spread across his face.

 _Well, shit._

 **Thanks for reading, everyone! Try and see if you can guess Cedric's Creature. It's not too hard, I promise!**

 **I had a hard time deciding whether or not Ron would go through with telling Harry, but figured that this way Harry could exercise his possessiveness a bit. I mean, human Harry, being a total badass? *Squeal***

 **I'm trying to make it more romancey and less angsty, now that Ron's internal crisis is mostly out of the way. Remember, recommend someone you want to see shipped with Ron! You can also recommend what Creature they'll be, but no guarantees. (What am I saying, I'm too lazy to pick out a Creature myself. XD.)**


End file.
